


To the Last

by Faith in the Fallen (Iturbide)



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 19:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14984309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iturbide/pseuds/Faith%20in%20the%20Fallen
Summary: The threat of Múspell has finally been quelled, and peace has at last been established between Askr and Embla.  The celebration is short-lived, however, as an old illness Kiran thought cured when they came to Zenith resurfaces and threatens to cut their life short...but rather than mourn, the Order of Heroes rallies to their Summoner's aid in a desperate attempt to ensure that they can enjoy the peace they brought about.





	To the Last

**Author's Note:**

> So after railing against [TheDirtySummoner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDirtySummoner)'s call-out that a hypothetical where Kiran died after the war ended sounded like something I'd come up with ( _I take offense to that I only write happy endings dammit_ ), I ended up with a fun new prompt in my inbox: 
> 
> "How about Kiran just collapses from their illness, and the Heroes learn that they're super ill and are shocked and angsting, maybe nothing in Askr can heal them...so the Heroes then go to find the cure, because no way would they let their Summoner die like that!"
> 
> And it's true: they wouldn't. <3
> 
> I'm not quite as confident in this one as I was the last one, but this has been sitting in my inbox for ages and my drafts for nearly as long, and I'm ready to call it done and press on to other exciting things. As always for my work, dashes (-) represent a change of scene while stars (*) represent a change of perspective. Enjoy!

Peace. 

Part of Kiran had feared they’d never see the day. Not after Múspell’s arrival on the scene, right in the middle of their ongoing war with Embla. And it hadn’t been easy: it had taken so much sweat, blood, and pain, so many pleas that fell on deaf ears, so many desperate attempts to build bridges between parties entrenched in their isolation...but they had done it. Finally, _finally,_ they had extinguished Surtr’s ravenous flames, saving both Askr and Embla from his scorching designs. 

And now, at long last, they bore witness to Veronica and Alfonse signing the accords between their two kingdoms. 

It was hard to believe how far they’d come. Looking now over the Heroes they’d come to know so well, the Summoner smiled at the joy they found reflected in their faces as friends and siblings, partners and lovers, attended the ceremony ushering in their hard-won peace. A cheer rose from the crowd when the royals clasped one another's hands, loud enough to drown out even the screeches from the dragons atop the Askran castle. Pegasus knights soared overhead, raining white and gold feathers down on the proceedings as Sharena broke away to embrace her brother and Bruno. Beaming, Kiran sidled over to the hooded figure near the edge of the crowd; if his applause weren’t surprising enough, his vague smile was downright shocking. “Now, from what I recall, didn’t you once say that ‘peace’ was just a pretty little word that sickened you?” the Summoner taunted, elbowing Grima playfully in the side. 

The fell dragon’s grin sharpened into something teasing as he glanced down at them. “As _I_ recall, I said that ‘world peace’ were sickening words. An accord between Askr and Embla is hardly world peace.”

“But it’s the peace that matters,” Kiran noted.

“Presently...yes,” Grima agreed. “Congratulations. You have succeeded.”

The Summoner smiled, tucking their hands into the pockets of their gilt robe. “I guess that’s it, then,” they sighed. “Time for everybody to go home. Askr’s not gonna need Heroes anymore, with the war over....”

“Where do you imagine ‘home’ is for someone like me?” Grima asked.

...actually, that was a good point. “Well...I suppose they could use someone like you to shore up their defenses, in case something does go wrong again,” they offered. 

“What good would my help be without a tactician?” he grinned. 

“Hey, you’re in the body of a great one,” Kiran shot back. “And...I’ve prob’ly gotta go back to my world.”

Why didn’t that make them happy? Gods, just the thought made their chest feel painfully tight…

...no. They knew this feeling, this dizzy breathlessness...no, no no no, this wasn’t right -- gods, why was it happening now? Pressing a hand to their chest, the Summoner desperately willed the light-headedness away, their fingers curling in their shirt...

“Kiran?”

They stumbled, held up only by Grima’s hand on their arm. Their heartbeat raced, too fast, their vision blurring as they gasped frantically for breath that would not come. Gods, no, not again, not now…

“What’s wrong, Kiran? Answer me -- _Kiran!”_

They could not speak. They could not breathe. And as a cacophony of cries exploded around them, their sight went dark.

***

The Summoner’s collapse at the ceremony brought the festivities to a sudden halt. Grima did not hesitate: sweeping Kiran up off the ground, he hurried back into the palace, snapping for Lissa and Elise to hurry as he rushed past. The clerics scrambled to keep pace with his stride, reaching the castle infirmary as he lay the Summoner on an empty cot...but in the next instant, they shooed him out of the room, closing the door after him to keep him out. 

The Askran Royals and the Order’s commander arrived soon after, demanding answers the fell dragon could not give. Other Heroes gathered, crowding the hallway beyond the ward in spite of Anna's protests, waiting frantically for word. But the doors opened only to allow other healers entry, and no breath was spared for the anxious warriors beyond. 

Grima could not say how much time passed. It might have been mere minutes, however much their collective anxiety stretched the wait until each moment spanned an hour -- but when at last a handful of Heroes reappeared, their expressions pale and drawn, not one of the assembly seemed able to ask what had happened for fear of the answer. The pall of silence sent a chill through the corridor in spite of the crush of bodies, and for all that he wanted to shatter the deathly stillness, Grima found that he could not muster the words…

A tiny hand gripped his fingers, jarring him from his thoughts. Glancing down, he found Fae standing on tiptoe to reach, her lip quivering as tears streamed down her flushed cheeks. “Where's Kiran?” the tiny dragon whimpered, clinging to the fell dragon as he crouched to gather her up. 

Lissa looked up, then away again; Grima saw her brother tighten his arm around Robin, the tactician in turn squeezing Morgan's hand in a desperate attempt at reassurance. The cleric drew an unsteady breath, toying fretfully with the buttons on her headpiece as she stared at the stones beneath her boots…

“They’re dying.”

Dismayed murmurs rippled through the crowd. “What happened?” Hector demanded.

“An assassination attempt?” Ursula offered. 

“Poison?” Kagero growled. 

But the fair-haired cleric only shook her head as Lucius lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. “They said that it was like this before,” the priest explained. “In their world. It hadn't happened while they were here, so they thought that…perhaps they were better. But it seems that it was some kind of magic keeping it at bay while the war raged.” 

“What's wrong with them?” Fae sniffled, wiping her already wet sleeve across her face again and only managing to smear the tears. 

“They were born with a weak heart,” Lucius murmured. Grima loathed the irony of those words: the Summoner had a greater heart than many here, an unparalleled patience and willingness to listen to even those whose pasts would give Heroes pause -- how could it fail them like that, after everything…?

“Can't you do something?” Marth pleaded. “Y-your staves…”

“They can't fix everything,” Lissa mumbled. Out of the corner of his eye, the fell dragon saw Roy step closer to his father; nearer still, Hinoka’s hand tightened on Takumi's shoulder, stirring the aura that clung to her brother. “W-we tried. We did, but all we could do was get them stable. We couldn't fix it.”

The words hung over their heads, a crushing weight suspended by little more than a thread. But Grima could see the realization taking hold behind their eyes, fraying the fragile hope that kept despair at bay…

“There's more to healing than just staves.”

The fell dragon turned toward his doppelganger, watching the man tighten his grip on his Exalted husband's fingers. “I've seen some texts on restorative rituals from different worlds in the library. Maybe there's an answer there.”

“I'll help you look,” Morgan piped up. He squeezed his daughter's hand gently, turning a grateful smile on the other Ylissean tacticians as they stepped forward to offer their own assistance in the search before leading an impressive procession of Heroes out of the crowd.

“Commander Anna, do you know if anyone has assembled a map charting all the Askran ruins?” Alfonse asked. 

“Ruins?” Sharena sniffled.

“We've never seen a world like Kiran's,” the Askran Prince explained. “What if that's because we weren't looking in the right places? Perhaps the gateway was damaged or lost in the past, and its purpose forgotten by the time it was rediscovered.”

His sister’s expression brightened as the realization dawned. “Like the Forge of Seals!”

“Precisely,” he agreed.

“I don’t know if a map’s been drawn with all of them in one place,” the Order’s commander mused. “But I know where we keep all the charts that might have them.”

“Take us there, quickly,” Alfonse insisted.

“Let us know what you find,” Ike said as the Askrans turned. “Maybe we can help, once you head out.”

“We'd be grateful for the assistance,” the prince replied. “Please keep watch over the Summoner,” he added, looking to the healers still standing at the door to the infirmary. “We'll do all we can to find an answer quickly, but...please stay with them. Keep them with us.”

Lucius smiled, inclining his head slightly as Lissa dried her eyes on the hem of her sleeve. “We will do our utmost,” he swore. 

“What should we do?” Fae whimpered, tugging on one of the tassels dangling from Grima's coat. He doubted that the clerics would allow anyone within...

“I think I'll offer a prayer to Mila,” Celica murmured, glancing toward the dragons. “Perhaps you might like to join me?”

“W-will Mila help if we do?” Fae sniffled. 

“She might, if we pray intently enough for our voices to reach her,” the mage replied gently. 

Grima sneered. What good would prayer do? Especially to some goddess exiled and forgotten--

_Don’t begrudge them the acts that give them peace. They do no harm._

The fell dragon scoffed. He saw no reason to waste time on worthless words--

_There is nothing else they can do now. If it will keep them from falling into despair while we find an answer, why should we deny them?_

“I-I’ll pray as hard as I can,” Fae promised, her tiny hands fisting in her dress. 

“And what of you?” Celica asked, looking up at Grima. 

“...perhaps I will join you,” he replied, a faint grin twitching across his face at the mage’s startled look. He saw little value in calling out to a divine so long forgotten...but if nothing else, it gave him time to make a plan of his own. 

***

Rather than confine the Summoner to the infirmary, the healers had agreed to move them to their own quarters, in hopes that familiar comforts would keep their health from declining further...or at least slow its progress. There was always a cleric or priest nearby, either within the room or just outside it, for fear that their condition might take another turn...but for now, at least, they were stable. Enough that when Sakura opened the door at Takumi’s knock, she offered a small smile, stepping aside for him before retreating into the hall beyond. 

“They’re sleeping right now,” she murmured. “But don’t worry. They’re alright.”

_For how long?_

He nodded slightly, moving toward the bed and sitting in the chair close beside it. Kiran did not stir when he took one of their hands in his shaking fingers; even in sleep, they looked small, pale, more fragile than the archer had ever seen them before. How long could the Summoner endure like this? Even if their heart did not fail them first, they might waste away to nothing...

_Kill them._

“Who?” Takumi whispered. Whose death could possibly help Kiran, who could he kill to save them--

_The Summoner._

The archer choked, his hands beginning to shake as he tightened his grip on Kiran's fingers. “No.”

_Look at them. Dying slowly. Suffering. You could spare them. Save them. End it._

“Stop it,” Takumi pleaded, trying to ignore the whisper in his mind. Not them, he couldn't kill the Summoner, he couldn't...

_One blow. No more pain. You'd be doing them a kindness. Sparing them. You know where to strike to make it painless. They wouldn't feel it at all._

“Stop,” he sobbed, pressing a fist to his forehead. “Gods, make it stop, please, make it stop--”

“Takumi?”

The Summoner's hand curled weakly in his. Looking up, he found their eyes open, their anxious gaze fixed on him. “Kira-an…”

“The voice again?” they murmured, struggling up onto their elbows…only to fall back with a wince, muffling a rattling cough in the sleeve of their robe. 

_Look how weak they are. You'd be giving them peace. You don't want them to hurt. Do you?_

“Hey,” the Summoner called, rolling over and patting the empty space beside them. “Wanna make this easy on me?” The archer hesitated, staring at their ashen face and dark-ringed eyes…but when Kiran's fingers tightened encouragingly on his, he moved from the chair at the bedside to the edge of the bed. “Come on, little closer,” they chuckled, running a hand over the blankets. “I promise I’m not contagious.”

Takumi sensed that was meant to be a joke. Mustering up a smile, he carefully stretched out beside the Summoner, flinching down into the bedclothes as they touched the cold trails on his cheek. “Is it bad?” they asked. He nodded, turning his face into the blankets as the whispers drowned out his own thoughts--

“Hey. Hey, hey, don't do that, come on…” Kiran's arm settled over his shoulders, pulling them closer to him. “I’m here, okay? I'm right here, don't worry…I know I haven't been the best company lately, but I’m still here.”

“For how long?”

The voice overwhelmed him, its question slipping out on a desolate sob. But worse was the silence that met it, the way Kiran stilled beside him, and he feared what he would see in their face if he turned to look. 

“...I don't know.”

He winced as the words he’d feared most rang in his ears. “Sorry,” the Summoner mumbled. “Maybe I should've tried to soften that a little. But I really don't. I mean… even back in my world, I was basically living on borrowed time. I'm surprised I made it this long here in Askr. But…it seems like whatever was keeping me going through the war finally gave out now that it's over. So I'm back to borrowed time. ...I’m really sorry, Takumi.”

“I’m afraid,” he whispered. Without them, he couldn't be sure what the voice might make him do, who it might make him hurt, not when even now it goaded him to put his hands on Kiran's neck, stifle their breath and pulse as some vicious mercy he could not fathom--

“You’ll be fine,” the Summoner insisted, hugging him tighter. “Your family's gonna take care of you, okay? Sakura and Hinoka and Ryoma, they're gonna look out for you and make sure you're okay. Azura, too. She'll still be here. So don't worry so much.”

“...but I don't want to lose you.”

Kiran had been the first person to believe there might be hope for him. They had given him his family back, had given him his _life_ back, teaching him ways to calm his mind and drown out the malevolent whispers that haunted him in sleep as much as waking. They had defended him when other Heroes would have seen him put down, talked him back from violence rather than physically subduing him, made him feel _human_ when he feared he was no more than a shell for some cruel power…

“...you won't.”

Takumi looked up, blinking to clear his watery eyes as the Summoner reached over him to lift their fohn of the nightstand. Performing the activation ritual, they swept their fingertips across the surface, smiling as they tapped something before offering the tile to him.

On the screen, he saw Kiran smiling at him. 

“You can have that, if something happens to me,” the Summoner said, nestling back into the pillows while the archer touched the surface with shaking fingers. “I just changed the background picture, so it'll go away when you play with the koi, but as soon as you’re done I'll be right there waiting for you. How's that?”

He could barely see through the tears. It was an exact likeness, not like the paintings placed on Hoshidan shrines during a wake. But it was just as still, just as lifeless, as his father's had been so many years ago, the image cold and glassy against his skin as he touched it to his forehead in silent prayer. “Oh, no. I made it worse, didn't I? I'm sorry, Takumi, I'm sorry…”

He shivered as their arm wrapped again around his shoulders, their touch little warmer than the tile pressed against his brow. How much longer would that warmth be able to hold? How long until it went out entirely, and the image of their smile was all that remained? 

_You could take pity on them. Ease their suffering now--_

No. 

He wrapped his arms protectively around Kiran's shoulders, pulling them close against him. He would not cut short whatever time might remain. But he would stay to the last. 

***

“Hurry, hurry! This way!”

“I'm coming,” Tiki insisted, struggling to keep up as her younger self dragged her through the halls. The urgency in the young dragon's voice was enough to keep any drowsiness at bay; she felt her nerves draw taut as they wound deeper into the palace, toward rooms she couldn't be sure had ever seen the sun. The cold made her uneasy, but the little manakete did not seem to notice or care, herself, keeping hold of Tiki’s hand and pulling her into a small, dim room, lit only by a soft violet glow that flickered eerily along the walls. 

“I brought her!” the young dragon announced to the dark. 

“Well done, tiny one.”

Tiki whirled as the door swung shut behind them…only to relax as her child self ran toward the cloaked figure wreathed in lilac flame, who stooped to pick her up without hesitation. “Grima,” she murmured, inclining her head in greeting.

“Tiki,” he offered in turn as the young divine dragon in his arms snuggled close. 

“You wished to see me?” she remarked, folding her arms across her chest. 

“I did.”

“You know you could have sought me out yourself,” she pointed out, her voice perhaps a bit more terse than she had intended judging by the narrow smile that flashed across his face. 

“I'm aware,” he agreed. “But this is a…delicate matter. And I wanted your full attention, away from prying ears and eyes.”

She glanced again at her younger self, whose cheery smile had faded into an unsettlingly somber mask. “...what is it?”

“I need your help.”

“With?”

“Appealing to Naga.”

The incredulous laugh might have cut her throat, had it been any sharper. The younger dragon's solemn frown only deepened, though Grima seemed entirely unconcerned. “Really. And why would the Wings of Despair seek favor from my mother?” Tiki demanded, hearing the bitterness in her own tone and making no effort to soften it. 

“For Kiran.”

…perhaps she should have expected that reply. And yet, somehow, it took her completely by surprise, ripping the fury from her and leaving only a cold, nauseating guilt. “I have seen what Naga is capable of. I have watched her heal near mortal wounds with but a thought. If no magic in Askr can heal the Summoner, and the medicine in their own world has already failed, what else is left to try but a miracle of the divine?”

She saw her own vague sneer mirrored on his face. “So you come to The Voice in hopes of reaching Naga through me.”

“No,” he murmured. “We come to you knowing that she would never entertain a request from the fell dragon -- she would sooner see me rot than deign to fulfill my plea, even if it is on behalf of a human. And this tiny one’s voice cannot reach her mother's ear,” he added, his voice curiously gentle as the young manakete in his arms clung tighter to his coat. 

“I tried,” she sniffled. “I really did, but I couldn't hear anything, and I don't know if she could hear me…”

“It's alright,” Grima reassured her, bumping his forehead against hers. “You did your very best. I'm proud of you for that.”

Tiki bit her lip at that gesture, a faint pang making her heart twist. Gods, what was wrong with her, envying a child -- and for what? For a kindness from the dragon that had nearly destroyed her world on two separate occasions, not even counting the timeline he ruined perhaps beyond repair…

“I am sorry to ask this of you.”

The divine dragon started at the voice, her fangs sinking into her lower lip. Wincing, she turned away, lifting a hand to hide the blood she could taste on the tip of her tongue. “Why should you apologize?” she muttered. 

“I know what she did to you.” 

She did not turn as steps approached, nor when a warm hand came to rest on her shoulder. “If you hold no hatred for her, then you are a stronger being than I,” he continued. “I loathed her well before she saw fit to lay me low. For selfish reasons, perhaps, but her choice to cut me down without first attempting discourse did her no favors. But you have every reason to fairly revile her, given the life she robbed you of. I would not ask if I saw any other way.”

She did not lift her head as he moved to stand before her. But when he held a handkerchief out to her, she accepted, pressing the soft linen to her mouth without meeting his eye. “You’ve no need to agree, if it causes you grief,” he murmured. “I imagined that if I’d made this proposition in the plaza, others might have overheard, and the more Heroes that joined in the plea the less free you would feel to refuse the request. But I will understand if you decide against it. And I do apologize for taking advantage,” he added. And then, more softly, “...thank you, Tiki.”

Her gaze darted up to his face, searching his expression for any trace of deceit. “For what?” she demanded. 

“For hearing my request,” he shrugged. “Naga would not.”

The divine dragon looked to her younger self, who offered a tearful smile of her own. And after a moment, she heaved a heavy sigh. “I will consider it.”

Grima inclined his head. “That is all we would ask.” The flickering light of the violet flames around him seemed warmer, somehow, as he moved to open the door, setting the little manakete back on her feet and gesturing for Tiki to follow. And after a moment, she joined them, taking the hand her younger self offered and following the fell dragon out of the dark. 

\-----

With every day that passed, Kiran seemed to weaken. They lapsed between periods of active awareness and listless lethargy, and their consciousness faded at random into an uneasy sleep with increasing frequency. The attempts at ritual and spellcraft from both the healers and the mages showed no signs of success, and try as they might the Askran royals had not been able to locate a ruin leading to the Summoner’s world, or any other that might offer a means to help. 

Hopes began to flag. Despair dogged the Heroes’ steps, and it was far more common for Kiran to have quiet company keeping vigil in their rooms than to find them alone. And as expected, that was where Tiki found Grima, watching silently over the Summoner as they slept. 

He looked up at her as she closed the door, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. “Hello, Tiki,” he murmured, quiet enough that the Hoshidan archer drowsing on the other side of the bed did not stir. “Have you come to say your goodbyes?”

Her heart twisted as she looked to the silent figure lying motionless beneath the blankets. “Have things taken a turn…?”

“No,” he murmured. “No worse. But no better, either. And many of the Heroes seem to think that means they should visit, in case this proves their final opportunity.”

She had never seen the fell dragon look so weary before. Even his voice sounded tired and worn, burdened by the grief of what seemed an inevitable loss. Moving to sit at the bedside, she folded her hands on her knees, glancing once more toward Kiran’s ashen face. “Have you? Said your goodbyes?”

He smiled, a wan expression devoid of any mirth. “I have no need to bid them farewell until the end truly comes. I will be here to the last.”

Tiki bit her lip, focusing her attention on her suddenly shaking fingers. “What would you do to save Kiran?”

The silence stretched, broken only by the divine dragon’s pounding heartbeat. “I would do anything short of taking a life,” he murmured at last, “and only because I am certain Kiran would disapprove. I would gladly bare my belly in submission to Naga again if it--”

“Again?” Tiki interrupted.

“You don’t imagine I came to you before trying myself, do you?” he asked. She flinched very slightly beneath his stare, turning her gaze back to her fingers. “But she gave me no answer. Just as she gave no answer to her young daughter.”

“...then perhaps she will respond to my Voice.”

She heard him stir as she removed the sprig of dried sage from her cloak. The people of Valm had conducted elaborate rituals with incense and offerings when they invoked her trances…but this, she knew, would be enough. Rising from her place, she touched the leaves to the lamp on the end table, letting them burn briefly before extinguishing all but a faint curl of smoke. She felt the fell dragon watching her intently as she settled on her knees by the bedside, her hands folded around the stem, breathing in the automatic smoke…

And as she felt herself begin to drift, she closed her eyes, steeled her will, and called her mother's name. 

_“Tiki?”_

_She blinked, staring out over the fields of flowers stretching as far as the eye could see. She recognized this place: Mt. Prism, her mother's chosen home and the site of her shrine in the halidom of Ylisse. But there was no shrine here before her: only Naga’s luminous figure, her smile glowing in the morning light._

_“Hello, Mother,” Tiki murmured, bowing her head._

_“There’s no need for that, my dear,” Naga chided gently. “I’ve missed you so…”_

_She bit her lip on a bitter question, drew in a deep breath, and turned her gaze back on her mother's face. “I have a request for you, Mother.” Naga's smile turned to a curious frown, her head inclining slightly to encourage her daughter to continue. “A dear friend lies close to death. Magic has failed them, as has medicine. Please, intercede on their behalf…”_

_Even as she spoke, Naga's expression took on a pitying solemnity. “I cannot interfere in the matters of humankind--”_

_“You did when Grima returned,” Tiki reminded her. “You not only blessed the prince by awakening his blade, you restored his allies that they might oppose the fell dragon and see him sealed once more.”_

_“Those were dire circumstances,” Naga replied. “This is not. All humans die, my dear, you know this…”_

_“But it's not their time,” Tiki protested. “They're young, they should be allowed to live out their life, not lose it to a heart that fails them too soon…”_

_“But what makes them different from the mortals who have come before, or those still to come? It is one mortal life out of many. To save them would imply that their life is worth more than another's. And it cannot be so.”_

_“Why? Because they are not blessed with your brand?”_

_Naga frowned, opening her arms. “My child--”_

_“Or is it because they have Grima's favor?”_

_The divine stopped short, her face paling. “Grima was stopped for all time. You know this.”_

_“Perhaps one was. But there are others -- for every possibility, every branch in the flow of fate, one exists. I have met him,” Tiki retorted. “Spoken with him. Fought alongside him as an ally. He was the one who asked me to reach out to you.”_

_“My poor child,” Naga murmured. “What horrors you must have endured--”_

_“Horrors?” Tiki laughed. “He has never done me harm. He did not even demand I speak with you, or force my hand with a public request that would garner support from passersby. He allowed me a CHOICE.”_

_Silence settled over the field, the rainbow flowers rustling in an unfelt breeze. “I only wanted to ensure that you would not come to harm,” Naga said softly._

_“No, you wanted to ensure that I would not be the one to cause harm to mankind,” Tiki snapped. “I've spent so much of my life sleeping that the world has left me behind. All those I once cared for passed on and I was never allowed even to bid them farewell because of my slumber. And yet, despite valuing the fate of humanity over your own daughter's life, you would not act on behalf of the one who made a Hero of the fell dragon?”_

_“...what is this human to you, my dear?” her mother asked softly._

_Tiki swallowed back her frustration, her rage, her tears, and met Naga's eye. “Kiran is my friend,” she replied. “They bring out the best in everyone they meet -- even those who would be branded as villains. They are kind, and considerate, and they go out of their way to do things for others to support or comfort them, even if only in small ways.” How often had she woken from an afternoon nap in the chill of the night, the Summoner’s coat draped over her in place of a blanket? How often had they guided her to a private, sunny place when they saw her growing drowsy, that she might rest undisturbed? How often had they sought her out, not to beg her for Naga's favors, but to hear her own stories? Kiran had reunited her with so many of the friends she'd lost, had given back so much of the time robbed of her… “Everyone who knows them would raise their voices in prayer for their recovery. Even Grima has, and would again, if it would save them. Please, Mother...I know that no human can live forever. I only ask that they be allowed to live the life they deserve -- the one they have earned, after all the good they've done.”_

_Naga bowed her head. “Would it make you happy to have this human remain by your side, even knowing it only delays your pain of loss?”_

_“You're wrong,” Tiki murmured. “A loss to illness or calamity is not the same as one to age and time. One is a bitter pain, resentful of the unfairness that stole away a life too soon. The other still hurts…but it is softened by the celebration of a life fulfilled, and the knowledge that this is the fate of all things once time has run its proper course. I want to remain with them through the whole of their life, and share stories of them long after they pass on -- I want to carry the memories of them with me to the last.”_

_Tiki met her mother's gaze steadily, heedless of the tears blurring her vision. When Naga approached, her daughter stood her ground, neither flinching nor retreating…_

_And when the divine dragon opened her arms and embraced her, Tiki did not pull away. “If that is your desire, my dear child, then I will see it done. Only once,” she warned gently. “Come what may, I will not again disturb the flow of their fate.”_

_“That is all I would ask,” Tiki breathed. It was more than she had expected, to be sure, and her heart swelled with a sudden rush of hope as her mother drew back, wiping away her daughter's tears with the tips of her fingers. “Thank you, Mother.”_

_Naga smiled, her own eyes shining in the soft light. “I love you, Tiki,” she murmured._

_The words, however well-meaning, cut deep. She could not see compassion in putting a child to sleep for centuries. And she could not forgive her mother for that choice. But she could allow her a chance to atone -- starting from this first kindness. Stepping back, she offered a low bow, closing her eyes on the sight of flowers and sunlight.._

… and when she opened them again, she saw only faint lamplight on pale grey stone, the spent stalk of sage still in her hands, its flame long extinguished and the ash scattered on the soft rug edged in gold beneath her. Lifting her head (and wincing at the ache in her neck), she squinted at the weak sunlight creeping through the drapes to paint the bedclothes; it seemed she’d spent much of the night in her trance…

“You’re alright.”

Tiki started, turning toward the unexpected voice -- and finding Grima watching her, seeming somewhat more haggard but otherwise little changed. “You had doubts?” she asked. 

“I was concerned when you did not show signs of waking after the ember died,” he replied. “I was unsure whether to leave you be or try to rouse you.”

“Have you been keeping watch all night?” she ventured, coaxing her stiff limbs to move and levering herself up onto the edge of the bed. 

“Most of it,” he murmured. Which she took to mean that he’d dozed off himself at some point in the small hours of the morning. “What came of your attempt? Did you hear more than silence, or--”

“Is something going on?”

Tiki whirled to find Kiran squinting at her, rubbing their eyes as they levered themselves up in bed. “I mean, okay, Takumi and Grima I’m pretty much used to at this point -- the challenge is getting them to leave,” they joked, glancing to the other Heroes (who simply gaped in turn), “but Tiki is a new and worrisome development. This isn't some draconic last rites thing, is it? Shit, how long have I been out of commission--”

Whatever else they might have tried to say was lost as the archer flung himself from his chair and onto the bed, snaring the Summoner in an embrace so fierce that she could see his tremors. “Oh. Wow. Okay, yeah, I guess I’ve been out of it a while.”

Tiki giggled, glancing sidelong at the fell dragon's awestruck expression. “As it happens, we had a rather civil conversation…and she agreed.”

As he turned to the divine dragon, Grima smiled at her -- something grateful, so bright, that she knew her mother would never have imagined it possible. “Thank you, Tiki. You truly are divine.”

The praise caught her entirely off guard. Before she could think of any reply, though, a monstrous growl rose from the bed. “...is anybody else hungry?” Kiran asked sheepishly. 

The fell dragon laughed as he rose from his place, a sound so warm it shook her to her core. “I’m certain something can be arranged,” he replied as the Summoner patted Takumi’s shoulders and tried to coax them both closer to the edge of the bed. While Kiran teetered onto their own feet, Grima linked his arm with theirs for support, his glowing eyes once more focusing on Tiki. “Will you join us?”

She smiled, listening to the Summoner patiently explaining to the anxious archer beside them that they felt fine, just a little wobbly from being in bed so long, and no they did not need to be carried. “I think I will,” she agreed. And with the sound of Kiran’s cheerful voice close behind, Tiki led the way out into the yet quiet halls to greet the morning. 

***

Kiran wasn't entirely sure what had happened to them. They remembered the ceremony, and that unwelcome tightness in their chest; a handful of conversations here and there, with Lissa and Lucius, Takumi, Grima, Celica, Robin…and then waking up, feeling good enough that they'd been ready to assume the whole thing had been a dream. 

Which made it all the more baffling when they realized it wasn't. 

Most of the Heroes called it a miracle. Divine intervention. A blessing from Mila, or Naga, or any one of the nameless gods they swore to. The Summoner had really never put much stock in divines before...but after apparently coming so close to death, only to bounce back better than ever, they had to wonder if maybe something out there really was looking out for them. 

The extended bedrest might not have done them any favors, but they still recovered rapidly, first wandering the castle halls and plaza (with someone on hand for company, whether they asked or not), then the palace garden and grounds, and eventually joining Alfonse and Sharena on outings to visit their Emblian neighbors. 

No one brought up the idea of Kiran going home again. And while they were grateful for that, they knew that they were only delaying the inevitable. It wasn't like the Summoner could just stay forever: the war was over, there was no need to call forth new Heroes, the ones who'd helped them had their own lives to return to...and like it or not, so did Kiran.

And they really, _really_ didn't like it. 

It gnawed at them more and more with every passing day, though, until it just lived as a queasy feeling in the pit of their stomach, crushing their appetite and weighing down their mood in spite of their best efforts. Poking unenthusiastically at their dessert, they tried again to think of how to even broach the topic, which just made the nauseating dread worse--

“Is something wrong?”

They blinked, glancing over at Grima as he folded his hands before his own empty plate. They'd always found it funny that the fell dragon had a sweet tooth, even if it was just something inherent to Robin’s body (every one of the tacticians shared the vice). But even that didn’t make them smile today. “I’m okay,” they mumbled. “Just. Thinking about when everybody will have to go home. And when I’ll have to go back to my world.”

The space around them quieted, and the Summoner shrank down into their hood. Had they really been that loud? And here they were trying to keep quiet--

“Do you want to go back to your world?” Grima asked, his quiet voice still seeming to fill the even quieter room.

“...not really,” they confessed. “But the war’s over. You guys don’t need a Summoner. And everybody else probably wants to go home.”

“About that.”

Kiran turned toward Alfonse, watching as his sister struggled to hide a smile behind her folded hands. Even the Askran prince looked oddly pleased about something… “We’ve been doing quite a bit of research lately, as you know. The Morgans found some interesting scrolls that show ways of opening gateways to different versions of the same world.”

“Which would mean we don’t have to send anybody back with Breidablik!” Sharena interrupted. “We can just open a gateway for them so they can still come visit!”

“We did test it to confirm, and it seemed quite effective,” Alfonse continued. “But more importantly...we still have yet to find a gateway leading to your world. And as none of us are capable of wielding Breidablik, I’m afraid that for now, you may need to remain here. We are deeply sorry,” he added, his smile belying the sincerity of his apology. “But we could certainly use your help. There are Heroes who have no worlds to return to, and Commander Anna has considered making a permanent guard for Askr and Embla -- a force that can protect us from threats without or within...unless there’s something else you’ve aspired to?”

Kiran beamed, scrubbing their watering eyes with the hem of their sleeve. “I don't know -- I hadn't thought about it much,” they confessed. 

“Well, you can take all the time you need to explore, then,” the prince assured them. “We're glad to have you here with us, Kiran, for as long as you wish to stay.” 

“Thanks, Alfonse,” they laughed, swatting Grima’s hand as he teasingly reached for their untouched dessert before digging in with gusto. As long as they wished…

Then all their gods willing, Kiran would be there for a very long time.


End file.
